We Called them, "Crispies".

When I was a child, my favorite fast food joint was Long John Silver's.

My siblings and I loved that place - especially after a long day at the local swimming pool.

Greasy fried chicken, fish, hush puppies, french fries - everything was deep fried. And, attempting to negate the fact that you were consuming more partially hydrogenated oil in one meal than one should consume in a lifetime, they served everything with a side of coleslaw.

A salad of sorts?

But, our favorite part of the meal - hands down - was the side of "crispies" that my Mom would always get for us: A small bowl of yummy, little, crunchy things that tasted like the outside of the fried fish and chicken.

Fast forward 20 years.

I was newly married to my husband when we stopped, at my very persistent pleading, at a Long John Silver's for lunch.

I ordered a grease-filled platter of chicken, french fries, and hush puppies and asked for a side of "crispies". The worker happily obliged and my husband looked at me as if I'd ordered fried cow tongue.

We sat down to our meal, and I immediately dove into my bowl of "crispies".

"Do you know what those are?", my husband asked.

"Yeah", I replied. "Crispies. You should try some. They're so good."

"SG", he continued, "They scrape those up from the bottom of the grease pit where they drain all the other 'stuff'. You know that's what you're eating, right?"

I thought about it for a minute, popped another "crispy" into my mouth, and shrugged:

"Hmmm. Well, that's gross. But, they're still the best part."

So, I dedicate this cartoon, and a large bowl of "crispies", to my reasonable and level-headed husband. Who would never eat greasy, fried crumbs from the bottom of a grease pit.

But, still loves the girl that would.

See, dear, I'm not the only one.

Originally published September 19, 2009.